


(lonely) space

by fromthefarshore



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthefarshore/pseuds/fromthefarshore
Summary: Out there in space was not how Lance had always imagined it.





	(lonely) space

**Author's Note:**

> ever since season one I wanted to try writing klance, and finally I sat down for a tiny little ficlet about lonely space boys

_ Out there in space _ was not how Lance had always imagined it. He’s always dreamed of  seeing the whole universe, travelling in spaceships with just a memory of Earth, going _big_ and living through stories he could tell everyone when he gets back, _always_ gets back. He’s never really thought his dreams, with a certain twist to it, could become true. And yet, here he was.

The space was lonely. It was lonely on itself and diving into the depths of it made Lance feel lonely as well. There was _something_ clinging to him from inside, as if the thousands of years of memories were suddenly stored in him, making his chest ache with the pain of the universe. It felt like a stab to his heart whenever the star in the darkness disappeared, as if it was part of him as much as it was part of the universe. The universe lived in him just like he lived in it, and more than anything, it hurt. Sometimes, Lance would find himself crying silently in his room for the death of a star he didn’t even know the name of, and together with it, he wept for himself, he wept for the Earth slowly vanishing from him with every tick.

Lance thought of home a lot.

“Do you think it’s all the same?” he asks, his eyes fixed on a bright blue dot somewhere far away. The huge window of the castle makes it seem like he could be engulfed in the darkness full of stars the moment Keith let go of his hand. He tightens the hold; Keith curls his fingers, the tips of them pressing harder into Lance’s skin.

“The reality?” he asks, almost in a hush, as if someone could hear them, as if someone could come and shatter the sense of lonely, yet content tranquility surrounding them.

Lance nods, tilting his head to look at Keith. The universe is dancing in his eyes, the purples and blacks, and flickers of light, and it feels like Keith belongs here, like his eyes are made to look at permanent night full of the stars and galaxies, while the blue of Lance’s eyes has always been drawn to the clear sky of Earth the most.

“Do you think we’re still there? The days go on and on, and we, _other_ us, are living their lives there? Maybe this all is just another alternative reality?”

“Do you want to believe this?” Keith furrows his eyebrows, like he is weighing the pros and cons of the idea. He doesn't voice out his thoughts, though, letting Lance do it instead.

“It’d mean my family and,” Lance takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, and slowly lets it all out, “well, everyone I care for and who cared for me, wouldn’t be going crazy over me suddenly going missing, right?” He chuckles, albeit not very honest, and the sound is soon eaten up. It’s always somehow more silent in the space. “I’d like that.”

There’s a lump forming in Lance’s throat and he wonders if Keith can hear it in his voice. If he does, however, he doesn’t comment on it; Lance is glad about it.

Keith stays silent for a while, his eyes shifted back to the darkness in front. He rubs Lance’s hand with his thumb though, slowly and absent-mindedly, giving comfort for Lance or maybe searching for it himself.

Lance knows that Keith doesn’t have anything to come back to, that he is made for space and galaxies, and universes, but he also knows that sometimes Keith comes to his room at night, slipping under the blanket and wrapping his arms around Lance to feel warm, to feel alive, to get a touch of Earth, still soaked in Lance’s skin, again. He knows Keith misses something, but neither of them knows exactly what.

“Maybe the time there just stopped,” finally says Keith, “maybe this whole time we’re fighting Galra is just a few minutes on Earth, or maybe,” he stiffens a bit, biting on his lip to gather himself up again, before continuing, “maybe it’s just a very long dream.”

Lance hums.

He doesn’t know what to say. Part of him wants it to be a dream indeed, but another part is telling him it’s not, it could never be.

He smiles, weakly, and when Keith turns to look at him, Lance leans forward, catching him in a hug. He wraps his arms tightly around Keith, warm and undeniably real, and in a moment, Keith places his hands on Lance’s back, putting his head on Lance’s shoulder. It’s soothing.

“It’s not a dream,” Lance whispers. “There’s slightly too much for my mind to come up on its own,” he adds, and a pleasant vibration runs through his body when Keith’s chest shakes faintly with laughter.

And for a moment, it’s not lonely. For a moment, the space surrounding them fades away, and there’s only Keith, his hair tickling Lance’s nose, his jacket somehow still smelling of home, his hands hot on Lance’s back.

It’s not how Lance has imagined being out there in space, it’s often hard and painful, and lonely, but sometimes it’s softer, warmer, more intimate that he could ever think, and sometimes, Lance thinks, at least for a moment, it’s okay.


End file.
